


Dreaming

by AlphaKantSpell



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Dreaming, Flash Fiction, M/M, Micro Fic, Strained Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're not dreaming, Darling," Eames murmured, shoulders stooped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in 2010

Arthur gasped as he breathed, twisting the faucets full blast. He splashed the cold tap water over his face, eyes blinking with blurry panic. As the water dripped down his face and ruined his new coat, Arthur's trembling fingers groped in his pocket for the totem. He rolled the die again and again. It skid off the edge of the counter and onto the bathroom floor. Arthur lunged for it, gasping again.

The heavy bathroom door opened, Eames staring down at him is a disarming curiosity. The hum of the restaurant muted when the door shut.

Their gaze met and Arthur felt suffocated. The water pouring into the sink was as loud as a chain of waterfalls. The room was too bright – the walls too close.

Eames glanced from Arthur to the die. For once he didn't grin. He didn't chuckle. He didn't hint a smile. Arthur grabbed for the die, horrified that it _was_ his totem.

"If I didn't know better, I'd be offended," Eames said, ghost humor lighting his face. His eyes remained dark – hurt. Arthur breathed again, drying his face with an already damp sleeve. The water from the faucet continued raging. Neither party spoke, uncomfortable with the silence but less inclined to break the ice.

Eames' thumb traced the ring case in his fist.

"You're not dreaming, Darling," Eames murmured, shoulders stooped. Arthur tightened his grip on the totem, his own shoulders peeked in defense.

"I know that," he snapped back, shaking again with the fight or flight instinct.

Eames watched him for a long moment, mask completely blank. It was unusual to see his expression so empty. His craft was forging identities, and this was one of the few times Arthur had seen him without one.

It was. . . daunting.

Arthur looked to the ring case, to Eames' face, and stopping on the faucet. With one hand, he turned the water off. It dripped noiselessly.


End file.
